It's Criminal
by crowlow
Summary: A yakuza and his punk, too preoccupied with womanly wiles to face what's right in front of them. Iba/Shuuhei and Iba/Rangiku/Shuuhei. Sexiness abounds!
1. Put The Fire Out

It always starts around talk of Matsumoto Rangiku.

After you've both had too much to drink, or at least pretend that you have.

It's the one interest you still have in common, now that Tousen Kaname is dead and his old friendship with Komamura Sajin can no longer bring you together with Iba Tetsuzaemon.

Your boyish fascination with the busty lieutenant has become the only thing you feel comfortable discussing. Or the only thing that maintains a sense of _normality _in your otherwise fucked up life.

So tonight, you say that you like that she's cut her hair short. Maybe because it adds a certain girlish innocence, but mostly because you think it'd be easier to hold onto.

Easier to _fist,_ without long strands spilling free and tangling your fingers.

But Iba argues that he misses those porno tresses that conjured fantasies of her riding him. Riding him so her sensually wavy hair could flip all around (nearly as sexy as her bouncing breasts, he insists).

You just laugh behind the sake bottle poised at your smiling mouth, and arch one challenging brow. You feel the need to mention _girlish innocence_ just one more time. . .and lo and behold, his small smirk suggests mounting interest and a different kind of lewd appreciation.

Having settled that to your satisfaction, you speculate pervetedly that the silver chain between her breasts actually connects her nipples underneath her uniform. Then you fantasize openly about tugging that chain to taunt those sensitive nubs - teasingly, harshly, apologetically. And your friend Iba laughs a laugh soaked with sake, as he enacts your thoughts with one burly arm that yanks and yanks, then slowly twirls.

Like jerking someone off, almost, before winding an invisible chain around his hand.

The first movement stirs you enough as it is, but it's the last that has you shifting where you sit. You can't be entirely sure if it's made you uncomfortable because it makes you think of a different set of chains, or because you feel Kazeshini awakening.

Awakening _because _you're thinking of that different set of chains.

You down more sake and try to ignore the spirit's cooing inside your head. The excited gurgle of a laugh that should be good-natured, but is instead maddeningly malicious. The lascivious swirl of his long pointed tongue, the wink of his mocking blue eye, and the way he purrs and sighs when he twists _that _chain around his wrists - the one connecting two bloodied scythes - then grinds it between his legs.

You down more sake, with eyes drooped and haunted. It always starts around talk of Matsumoto Rangiku: of how beautiful she is, how sexy she is, how a body like hers is more a torment than a blessing. Of what you'd do to her if she ever accepted your puppy-eyed infatuation.

Of what _Iba _would do to her when she realized what she's been missing out on.

It always begins this way, before it eventually becomes a discussion of _we _instead of I. What would _they _do, together, to Matsumoto Rangiku? Iba thinks he'd be holding her from behind, his hands all over, from her breasts to her throat then back down again; holding her legs open for _you,_ soothing them wide with a caring caress, as you bury your face between them and lick, suck, tongue. Lapping her up until she's screaming both your names.

Soon you're tugging at the tucked fabric around your waist. Loosening the top of your uniform, and trying to breathe quietly as you slip a casual hand between your legs. Trying not to alarm Iba Tetsuzaemon as you brush your fingers over your hardening cock. Like you're just readjusting yourself, or so you'd like him to believe, until that first touch becomes too tempting and you end up rubbing your palm down and biting the inside of your lower lip to conceal a moan.

It always _ends _the same way, but that's yet to discourage your nervousness. Every time it's hard to tell what Iba's _really _thinking when he's leaning back in such a way - legs _spread_ in such a way - that any evidence of his potential arousal is hidden from your view.

When he's wearing his sunglasses even now, despite the dark of night and the barracks being shadowed.

But regardless, it always leads to him moving towards you instead of away. Sometimes after finishing what's left of his sake, or taking one final drag of his cigarette, but always leaning forward and never wiping his mouth so you can still taste alcohol and tobacco when your mouths connect. His is wide and his mustache scratches your skin, but you like the way it feels even though you've been talking about the smooth skin and plush lips of a woman.

Iba's own lips are deceptive, you've learned. They look harsh beneath his mustache, but you've found the top lip to be surprisingly endearing. Its prominence over the lower has it puffing forward - slightly, but just enough to make you think it's _cute._ To make you tease it mercilessly with nipping teeth and your own suckling mouth.

He undresses quickly, while seeming unhurried all at the same time. His body looks substantially bigger than yours, and his skin smooth and virtually hairless. It is that, even more than his style of speech and the burning cat tattooed on his back, that reminds you of a yakuza. He is clean and professional. He is _refined._ And meanwhile you feel like nothing more than a stray hooligan. A lost punk wandering, dirtied and _marked _- scarred, tattooed; your memory sprayed by a passing skunk that was all white instead of striped.

You can't tell if Iba notices the smell, because he always rids you of your uniform with gentle impatience. He always slides his hand between your legs and gives your sack a commanding squeeze that simply says _Open. _

And you do, because it's become that simple between you. Because you _want _that simplicity after everything that's happened, and Iba Tetsuzaemon seems to understand that without you having to say it.

So you spread your legs, accommodating, and he pushes them down towards your chest so you're bent in half and your hips are raised. He slides your uniform under you in a crumpled heap, and you reach down to smooth it out with some awkwardness. The two of you have done this enough times by now for you to know that he just cares to provide cushion against the hardwood floor. That he's just that thoughtful, and in response you're just that willing to secure his built body between long legs, after his strong fingers have been quick inside your puckering hole.

It's as thick as the rest of him when he finally thrusts into you. You feel there's nothing you want to do but hold on as he fucks your mind away. You cling to him, shaking, as you pant ragged breaths. Arms around broad shoulders, your hands slide down; over a tattoo you can't actually see with your eyes, but know from memory. You hike your legs up his sides, restless to find purchase higher on his back, and suddenly a powerful arm hooks behind your knee and slides your left leg over his shoulder.

The stretch makes you cry out. Makes you sound choked and strained, then simply _satisfied _when he leans closer so he can drive into you. Your hips buck to meet him thrust for pounding thrust, eager and urgent, as you cup the back of his neck and pull him down. Your other hand glides over short dark hair, your thumb grazing smooth skin that's been clean-shaven since the war ended, and you kiss an open mouth that's already red and swollen from your earlier ministrations.

Moaning, gasping, trembling. You're a mess of sound and feeling beneath him; shaking with pleasure and need. He breaks your kiss to lean back, and grips the back of your calves so he can push your legs to your chest. You watch his own brawny legs spread wider as he digs in, readying, before he cants. _Hard,_ and his fucking now becomes neither fast nor slow, but steady and powerful and aimed _just right._

If you thought you were a mess before, now you've been reduced to uncontrollable tremors and rolling eyes behind fluttering eyelids. His cock spreads you wide with every sure thrust, and you clutch it reflexively, spasming. Suck it back in and _squeeze,_ hips bucking to get him even deeper. You're gasping so hard you think you might hyperventilate, but you hardly care when your toes are curling and your abdomen jumps-

Iba suddenly rasps "_Fuck_" above you, and you feel his cock pulse. You open your eyes, bewildered and dazed with pending release, but still eager to refocus on his expression. His hips jerk so your entire body rocks - so you gasp under the pressure of his cock hitting your prostate - and then you whimper against your own lip caught between your teeth when you feel him spilling over. _Hot,_ like the throb of his erection for you and the pleasurable burn of your hole stretched open. He's still holding your legs for you but his grip starts to slacken, so you hold them back yourself as you reach down.

You can never tell for sure if he's actually watching behind the blackened frames of his sunglasses, but you think he must be because he stays kneeling where he is. Still and waiting as you squeeze your cock in your fist, and use the precome that's already leaked halfway down the shaft to make the pull slick.

Your pumping is fast and furious, and you think distantly that if nights like this become routine, your jerking arm will get disproportionately bigger than the other. . .

But then you start to arch, back bowing, and you realize Iba's still inside you. Calloused fingers tighten, scrape, and your thumb barely rubs the underside of the head before come hits your torso in thick ropes. You rock into your fist to draw out your orgasm, and consequently rock back onto him. Moaning and shivering, you gnaw your lower lip.

And struggle to still your hips before you get carried away.

There's a streak of come on your thumb, and you look at it instead of Iba as you suck it off. Although this has happened before, you've yet to decide if his fucking you is because he's aroused by _you,_ or just aroused that you'd been talking about Matsumoto. He can be balls deep inside your ass - kiss you and let your tongue into his mouth - but even still you can't help feeling he'd prefer the soft curves and warm wetness of a woman if there happened to be one with you.

Despite that, you find you don't actually mind being his only means to release. Not when he's still so thorough and considerate, no matter what his reasons really are.

You start to sit up, and usually this is when one of you pulls away, and you both get dressed and call it a night. But he unexpectedly wraps an arm around your waist to hold you there, then pulls you towards him so you're straddling his waist as he rests on his shins. You'd already felt flushed before from the afterglow, but _now _you feel warm for entirely new reasons.

One of them being Iba's cock, which you notice is_ hard again_ and hasn't left you even once since he first entered you. You can't help shifting your hips around it like you're readjusting, but really you're just unsure, slightly surprised, and shivering with excitement all at once.

He moves first to kiss you, and his hands sweep down your back. Slowly, but leaving a burning trail in their wake. You arch against him responsively, and forget that you're smearing your come against a torso that belongs to someone who remains mysteriously unplaced on the spectrum of gayness.

Arms curling around his neck, you lean into the kiss and tease that upper lip that's entranced you. You rock in his lap, and broad hands smooth over the curve of your ass. They grip both cheeks and spread, before two middle fingers press to opposite sides of your entrance. Those calloused fingertips tease fleetingly before pressing _in,_ harder and harder until they've actually breached you with his cock.

You gasp quietly into his mouth. Your eyes are barely open and you hold onto his shoulders, chest heaving against his, as you arch your ass. Silently inviting, begging him to go on, and he kisses you again as he wiggles his fingers deeper inside you.

You're stretched now around his throbbing cock _and _persistent fingers. You whimper a blissful groan, and feel Iba's finger pull out just to smear his come from earlier over the skin between your entrance and sack. A shiver and a moan, as you open your mouth for his tongue and claw down his back.

Before he suddenly leans away so he's lying flat against the hardwood. His legs bend behind you, and his other finger slips away so he can slide his hands around your hips. The new position immediately has you thinking of his fantasies regarding Matsumoto, but it's hard to dwell when he bucks his hips imploringly.

Bucks them again like he's saying _Ride._

You settle back so you're pressed flush against him. You grind your hips, hard, harder and _slow. . ._ Grind yourself onto him so he's nice and deep, and start to pant as your pace picks up. As you really start fucking yourself on his cock, just like he's told you to. You watch him grit his teeth, and the tilt of his head and the way he grips your knees to spread your legs tells you that he must want a look between them.

Bypassing his vulnerable torso, you let your hands go straight to the floor on either side of his head. Fingers splayed, you use it for leverage and balance as you lean over him. You keep your legs spread so he can see your cock bouncing in time, and you slowly lick your lower lip. His hands have moved to hold onto your sides, and you tremble a throaty groan.

As you ride him like you know he's wished Matsumoto would, you wonder if things will always have to be centered around her just to get to_ this._

What surprises you, is realizing that you won't even mind.

* * *

The title is a take on Iba's tattoo (the cat on fire), and Shuuhei being a Leo and _literally _a cat on fire. Because Leo is the lion, and a sign of the element fire, so yada yada har har. XD And Iba is a lovely Cancer, a sign of the element water, so you see where_ that's_ goin'. YEAH I THINK I'M MORE BRILLIANT THAN I REALLY AM. AND I PUT TOO MUCH THOUGHT INTO MY TITLES.

It's just something I thought I'd mention. XD Hope y'all enjoyed!


	2. Air Bubbles Disrupt the Water's Edge

The death of Ichimaru Gin must have left her exceptionally vulnerable and lonely.

That's what you think the night Rangiku shows up outside your door. Of course she's waving a bottle of sake suggestively, and there's a flirtatious smile curling her pretty mouth. But her ice-blue eyes no longer shine as brightly as before, and you know that deep inside there's a part of her that's dead.

Because you don't have to look in the mirror to know your eyes have reflected the same since Tousen's death.

You let her in without a moment's hesitation. Her unannounced arrival is no longer surprising, when she's been appearing off and on since the war ended. But you think she must try Kira or even Abarai before she tries you, because she has to know you're obsessed with her - and that has to be the last thing she wants to deal with during times like these.

Still, you invite her in warmly; and do your best to make her feel welcome and comfortable. Warmly because you know there's a corpse inside keeping her cold, and because you understand exactly what it's like to feel vulnerable and lonely.

You understand the last thing you would want is to be turned away, or received with suspicion.

But the way she sits on the floor in your living area - reclined on the tempting curve of her hip, and her arm draped over the futon as she leans into it - is maddeningly provocative. Maddening because you're trying to decide if she knows exactly what she's doing, or if she's even aware of it. For all you know she's just being casual, and there you are presumptions enough to think that she's _trying_ to turn you on.

She wants to know how your training's been. You talk briefly about Abarai, and she pouts when she mentions her captain's rigorous routine. But you really can't muster anything more than a sympathetic smile, considering everything Hitsugaya went through during the war.

(It's also just hard to concentrate when her plump lips are puckered in such a way. . .)

When knocking rattles your door a second time, you know exactly who it's going to be. His expression is hard to decipher behind shade, but you know his stillness simply means that he's disbelieving. He can feel Rangiku is there, but he can't say anything about how surprised he must be _because _she's there.

Neither can you, but you find that bragging is the last thing on your mind when you notice he doesn't even have alcohol with him. His right hand is hidden inside his uniform, and the other is resting unexpectedly empty by his side.

You no longer want to lean in and hiss, "_Matsumoto Rangiku_ is lounging against _my _futon."

Instead, you want to ask him why he hasn't brought any sake, because that's been your routine this entire time.

What did he want tonight if it wasn't to drink and fuck around?

"Did they bring more sake?" you hear behind you. Your eyes remain fixed questioningly on the man in front of you when you answer, "No they didn't, Rangiku-san." She whines softly in response, disappointed, and you consider Iba's quiet stillness for a moment more before moving aside. You hold the shouji open as you wait for him to come in, and once he does you slide it shut and watch him walk further into the room.

"That's why I came ta drink yours," he comments after a moment's silence; a cool drawl in his tone as he approaches Rangiku.

"_You're_ without sake?" she counters, as disbelieving as you'd been. She must know, too, that Iba Tetsuzaemon is rarely without alcohol.

"I planned on kickin' his ass an' making 'im buy."

"Well if that's how you boys like to play. . . don't let me stop you~"

Her voice has dipped into something of a silken murmur, and that alone is enough to shift the energy in the room. Or maybe it's simply changed the _temperature,_ because it feels warmer than it had a moment before, and you feel rocked into slow-motion as you move towards them (like walking through invisible quicksand). She's looking up at Iba who's still standing, her blue eyes watchful as she drinks, but he turns his head towards_ you_- before suddenly pulling his right hand free from his uniform, and with it his sealed zanpakutou. In a second it's under your jaw, and its point pressed to your pulse.

"What's been going on in here that she wants me ta kick your ass?"

Your eyes widen slightly as confusion takes hold. Of all the moments for him to play _chivalrous._

"Stop fucking around," you insist, and reach up to shove his zanpakutou away. "You're not dealing with Ikkaku."

Sitting down, you cross your legs and reach for the bottle of sake that Rangiku's holding. She watches you a moment, her expression unexpectedly hard to read, and surprises you when she hands the bottle to Iba instead.

"Iba-san hasn't had anything to drink," she reasons, but it doesn't dispel the flush of embarrassment that burns your face.

Nor the burn to your hand when you withdraw it quickly, and let it ball into a fist on your thigh.

Iba takes the bottle and sits down beside you. You're across from Rangiku and he's positioned so he's nearest you both, and everything's gone uncomfortably quiet. You think you've fucked everything up by being too serious (_as usual_), and that you must have dampened Rangiku's mood.

Must have pissed _Iba _off somehow, too, with the way he's acting. . .

But he still hands you the sake without taking a drink. You glance at him, even though you'll see nothing but sunglasses for eyes, then look down and accept the flask. You don't want to make things worse by arguing, so you take a drink quickly then pass it back to him just as swiftly. It's then that you realize his fingers were brushing against your knee as he waited, and it makes things even warmer than Rangiku's voice when it dipped.

Those strong fingers feel silently reassuring, but it's a fleeting moment before they're gone to grip the sake bottle once more. You watch him take a drink, the pull of his throat as he swallows, and lick sake-flavored moisture from your lips. Your heart starts pounding when you think his hands are your favorite thing, and then you wonder _why the fuck_ you're thinking _that _when you have Matsumoto Rangiku - the source of all your fantasies - sitting just a few feet away.

You glance at her and your heart throbs to a painful stop when you find her watching you. Her gaze is calm but unnervingly _thoughtful,_ as she leans comfortably against your futon and combs short strands of golden hair through slim, womanly fingers.

You know she's _considering _and that makes you nervous, but not so nervous that you don't think her pretty hands might be your favorite thing about her, too.

Maybe you just have a weird thing for hands, you wonder. . .

Could it have anything to do with that special gloved hand that gripped your arm and pulled you to your feet, when you'd been a blubbering mess of fear and relief?

Your gaze is caught - _again _- by Iba's hand when he gives the flask back to Rangiku. You watch her slim fingers brush his, and think they'd be better suited to lace together than yours ever would. Glancing down, you stare at yours in your lap; curl your fingers into your palm then slowly flex them back out. When you chance a look back up you find Iba's head turned towards you, and you can't tell where he's looking but the tilt of his head suggests downwards.

Rangiku's head tips back when she takes a drink, and that's when Iba makes his move- towards _you _instead of her. Your eyes widen as he leans closer, his arm moving past your lap so he can brace himself against the floor. You can still see Rangiku drinking out of the corner of your eye, but can't bring yourself to look at her directly when he's closing the distance between you.

You're shocked immobile when his lips brush yours. When his mustache rubs your upper lip, and his head bobs so he can press harder into you. You reach out instinctively to grip his bicep, helping him balance, and try not to make a sound when you part your lips just barely (just to breathe, you tell yourself).

But it's hard convincing yourself of that when his tongue skims the seam, and you can't help sucking it into your willing mouth.

You taste sake and tobacco, and feel nothing but warm and _weak_. . .

He breaks away first without warning, and _now _you look at Rangiku. The bottle of sake has stopped short of her mouth, and her ice-blue eyes are wide as she stares. You feel flushed and exposed and slammed back into reality, your own eyes wide as you put your hand up. It hangs indecisively in front of your chest because your brain's short-circuiting, and you don't know whether to push Iba away, wipe your mouth, or hide your face all together.

He turns his head slightly to see over his shoulder, and actually cracks an unconcerned smirk that's all teeth.

"What? I thought women liked that sorta thing?"

Her eyes are still blown as she glances back and forth between you, but she looks more surprised than put off.

"I just didn't know you did too," she murmurs after a moment, and you realize_ not put off at all_ when a small smile appears. A _mischievous _smile, and you don't know why she was acting surprised in the first place when she already seemed to be onto you.

Maybe she just didn't realize Iba actually reciprocated?

The man in question grins wider, before turning back to you and tipping his head to go straight for your neck. You jump, then try your hardest to repress a moan when his hand cups the other side of your neck to hold you still. Those fingers you like so much rub through the hairs at your nape, as his thumb strokes your jaw to tilt your head.

Exposing more of your throat to his questing mouth.

You twitch, and grit your teeth to keep from squirming. The two of you have fantasized about this moment too many times to count, but now that it's actually happening_ in reality_ you feel overwhelmed.

Feel that it's happening way too fast, and you haven't had time to prepare yourself properly.

(You can't count all those nights just _talking _about it as adequate preparation, and you also hadn't accounted for Rangiku's eyes _burning into you._)

You feel uncomfortably _vulnerable _and you blame Iba, because this isn't what you guys discussed.

You didn't talk about touching each other in front of her.

You talked about touching _her _in front of each other.

He must sense your disquiet because he stops his assault on your throat- just to let his thumb skim your cheek as he leans up to kiss you. Slipping his other hand around your waist, he slides it gently up your resisting back.

Only it's becoming increasingly hard to fight your emotions, when you feel you're melting into his mouth as it moves against yours. Since when has he known that kissing will calm you? His mouth anywhere else can startle your nerves, but his mouth on yours and you're nothing but _soothed._

The way his arm tightens around you makes you think he wants to pull you into his lap. Hold you flush against him as you kiss, with his hands rubbing down your back and over ass like they have before. And as much as you'd like to let him - slip right into him and rub and rock - you know you can't because Rangiku's still there, and it'd be rude to let yourself get lost in Iba Tetsuzaemon.

This time, it's you who pulls away first. But you can't help hovering close, breathing heavily, then hearing it hitch when his mouth recaptures yours.

You fear he'll kiss you breathless and heartless, because you honestly think it might give out if he doesn't let you go.

If he doesn't stop making you feel cruel for behaving this way in front of Rangiku.

Maybe he reads your mind, because he turns his head to look at her. She's staring at both of you with eyes that are clearly aroused, but also still noticeably surprised. You're sure even she hadn't expected that kind of passion between you and Iba (despite her apparent speculation), but maybe if you told her that you've just gotten used to each other's bodies after so many nights revolved around fantasies of _her_. . .

You want an excuse to hide your embarrassment, but his mouth already kissed you speechless. And somewhere along the way Rangiku stopped leaning against your futon, and was now leaning with one hand against the floor and the other gripping her shoulder.

If that wasn't enough to rouse Iba, you don't know what would. So you're surprised that _now _he actually seems unsure of how to proceed (or maybe whether he actually _should_), because he remains still as he stares, and it's up to her to make the first move. Shifting onto her knees, she steps her hands forward so she's on all fours. Her breasts hang, squeezed together between her arms, and her curvaceous ass sways temptingly as she moves.

Leaning towards you both, she presses her plush lips to Iba's. Slowly caresses him there, and they're both tentative at first before Iba finally accepts that she actually wants it. That her little moan is for real when he presses harder, assumes control, and tilts his head to better dominate her mouth as he curls his hand into her short wavy hair.

Brows furrowed slightly as you watch, you say nothing and reach for the tie at his waist. Your fingers barely brush the fabric but he still turns, breaking his kiss with Rangiku so he can look at you. You stare into eyes you can't actually see, and he just angles his body towards you as he meets her mouth once more. Taking that to mean he wants to give you better access, you quickly undo his obi and press your hand between his legs to rub his cock through the fabric of his hakama. You hear him groan into his kiss with Rangiku, and his free hand slips down to grab your wrist.

To pull your hand tight to his groin and hold it there, his thumb grazing your skin.

_Fuck._

Fuck it all the way to Hueco Mundo and back, because an urge to yank his hakama down and deep-throat his cock rattles your resolve.

So instead you tug cautiously at Rangiku's uniform, until her breast slips free and you can suck her nipple into your mouth.

Because you refuse to ruin this for him, when you know he's been dreaming of this moment for as long as you can remember.

She gasps above you, and there's a moment when you worry she might pull away because she hasn't yet shown that she wants you to participate. But you don't let yourself falter, as you squeeze her breast in your hand and flick your tongue.

There's a whimper, and you feel fingers through your hair that aren't the strong fingers you've gotten used to. They're smaller, and gentler, and her nails long enough that it makes you shiver when she scratches your scalp. Your eyes droop with prickling pleasure, and she holds you against her as you suck her nipple hard and aching.

It isn't pierced, and you think you'd like to change that.

Just to watch Iba tease the chain like he pretended to. . .

You kiss the taut nub, open-mouthed and fleeting, as you slip your other hand inside her uniform to cup her other breast. You rub your thumb over her nipple there, pull her free of her shitagi, then squeeze as you nip the other. Her breath is hitching, her chest heaving into your mouth, but then she gasps loudly and you realize Iba's joined you. That it's his fingers pushing your hand out of his way, before Rangiku arches forward with a cry.

Her voice is pitched higher than you're accustomed to after so many nights with Iba, but you don't mind. It has its own appeal and stirs you all the same, so you find yourself undoing her obi next. You quickly start pulling the top half of her uniform out of her hakama, and glance up to see her watching you. Past lowered lashes, flushed all the way down to her collarbone. . . Until suddenly her brows furrow and her mouth falls open on a silent gasp.

Glancing sideways, you watch her nipple pinched and stretched between Iba's retreating teeth. She whimpers, shaking, and he lets go just to kiss it better.

You leave a kiss of your own against Iba's cheek, before quickly pulling away so he has no chance to respond. You keep your eyes on Rangiku as you press your hand to her ribcage, and gently push until she takes the hint and lies back. Slipping your hands beneath her waist, you curl your fingers around the back of her hakama and start to pull. She lifts her hips slightly, and your nails graze her ass when you slide her hakama off and throw it aside.

Her waraji and tabi are tossed away just as carelessly, and you see that her feet are as small and delicate as her hands. You feel the need to press your mouth to the sole of the one nearest you, and her toes curl faintly in response.

Which makes your gaze curious when you meet hers, and tease your tongue between her big toe and the one beside it.

She makes a startled sound, jerks her leg reflexively, and you almost snort a laugh but Iba beats you to it. You glance at him sitting beside you, and he leans in so he can murmur in your ear, "Haven't seen you do that ta _me._"

He says it like he wants to know _why _you haven't, and suddenly you're wondering if_ Iba Tetsuzaemon_ wants you_ licking his fucking toes._ You don't know how to say that you've always thought women's feet and men's feet were two _completely _different things, but even more than that . . .you don't know how to reconcile that for him, you think you'd actually make an exception.

So you don't say anything at all, as you press a kiss to his well-defined mouth. After a moment he moves the gesture to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, and you close your eyes briefly - tip your head over his shoulder to give him more - then rub your face into his hair before tearing yourself away.

When you turn back to a waiting Rangiku, you see her legs are spread slightly as she lays before you both. You can see that the white fabric of her fundoshi is soaked through, and despite Iba you can't help reacting. Going down on her was always something you'd been especially interested in, and why he often said he'd be holding her legs open for you to do as you please.

You're just orally inclined, and your mouth starts to water when you see some of her viscous fluid stretch between her and her underwear when you pull them down. Once you've tossed them aside she's finally naked from the waist down, but the top half of her uniform is still hanging on her arms precariously (falling off her shoulders and open around her bared breasts). Your eyes rove her disheveled state before settling on her wet cunt, and she must feel the heat in your gaze (_know your intent_), because she pulls her legs up and fans them open.

Open for _you,_ like she's saying_ Go ahead._

_Help yourself._

You glance at Iba once, then slide back on your legs so you can rest on your stomach. You scoot forward, run your hand up her thigh, and grip the back of her knee to push it down. There's movement beside you and you notice Iba doing the same to her other leg, and she quivers with anticipation.

Leaning forward you press your tongue flat to her entrance. Feel her slick against your mouth, and cover her cunt in wide, sweeping licks as you listen to her gasp. Her hand finds its way to the back of your head, and her nails scrape your nape as she pulls you even closer. The prickling sensation over your skin makes you moan into her, and you lick her clit into your mouth so you can suckle like you did her nipple.

She cries out, and her legs tremble on either side of you. Her other hand joins the first to yank on your hair, while holding you against her at the same time. You groan your approval around her clit, and lap your tongue over it a few more times before licking your way down to her entrance.

Tongue-fucking her now, you glance up to gauge her reaction. Her head is thrown back, and you feel her feet tucked tight to your ribs as she gives her breasts a harsh squeeze.

And that's when your eyes widen slightly, because you're surprised Iba isn't there to fondle her. Surprised that he isn't behind her and holding her open like he told you he would, or at least laying beside her so he can suck and pinch her nipples.

You turn your head slightly to see where he's gone, but suddenly there's a strong hand sliding slowly down your back; and you shudder from head to toe when it follows the curve of your ass. Turns so it's fingers-first over your balls; slipping between your legs so you can't help grunting in surprise. You're forced to straddle his arm as he grips your cock - around the fabric of your hakama - and starts stroking you with enough force that you can't possibly keep your hips still.

They jerk, arch, and you can't tell if you're trying to get away from his grasp or trying to thrust into it. It's just _fucking distracting_ when you're trying to pleasure Rangiku, and you don't want to be inconsiderate. . .

So you push two fingers inside her, and start pumping in time with Iba's teasing hand. She groans, breathy, and her hips are rocking like an undulating wave. She kind of tastes like a wave, too, - briny but more subtle - when you go back to lapping hungrily with your tongue.

You think you could get caught up in eating her out, if your mind wasn't drawn back to Iba when you feel him lifting your hips so you're on your knees. He pulls the top half of your uniform up your back, exposes your over-heated flesh to cool air, and leans down to kiss the skin he uncovers. You groan a groan that sounds more like a whine, then shudder uncontrollably when he pushes his cock into your ass and starts rocking back and forth like he's already inside you.

You both still have your hakamas on, but it still feels hot enough that you want to cry your surrender. You can't control yourself any longer, so you glance over your shoulder and watch his strong hands run up your thighs. Curve around the bend in your waist, slide up your bared torso; claw back down and grip your hips to pull you back. You buck automatically, and close your eyes as you arch into him and grind yourself over his cock.

Just grind, and grind, and grind. . .shameless and _needy as fuck,_ until you wring a rasping groan from his throat.

Fuck, he feels dangerously close. You're not even naked and he's not even inside you, but he still feels _so close._ So you sit up abruptly and turn as much as you can with your hips glued together, and grip his hand to anchor him.

"Fuck her," you blurt out, and he goes incredibly still. Doesn't say anything as you stare at each other, and you redden before looking back at Rangiku.

"Would you like that?" you have the sense to ask, because you don't want her to think you're just passing her off like some object to be toyed with. You want her to get the best that she can, and you know Iba can't fuck you up the ass before he fucks her.

You just want her to enjoy herself, and for Iba to finally live out his fantasy. . .

But deep down, you know if you let him fuck you that you won't be able to let him stop.

Meanwhile she's watching you both, deeply flushed, and her slender hands have wandered between her legs. You think she must have been rubbing herself when you and Iba were rocking against each other, because her pretty fingers have covered her clit.

And acting on instinct, you lean back down to slip your tongue inside her. She gasps loudly, and you smooth your hands up her thighs to hold them open as you give her a second tongue-fucking- thrust the wet muscle deep inside her equally wet entrance, and lick inside her until her body arches off the floor.

Pulling your tongue free, you drag it over her twitching hole and are about to go back for more, when suddenly she yells, "_Yes!_"

Pausing, you glance up to see her head dropped sideways and her large breasts heaving with every gasping breath. She starts nodding anxiously and you know that she's saying "Yes" to your earlier question.

_Yes,_ she would like it if Iba fucked her.

You smile faintly, then glance back for his reaction. Naturally he's grinning proudly from ear to ear, then moving past you (his body rubbing against yours) so he can lean over her.

Together, they make quick work of his uniform. Black and white fabric is flung aside, and as soon as he's naked her hand is on his cock- stroking him flushed and dripping, so she can use his precome to rub him slick. He groans over her huskily, and quickly they position themselves with her legs over his hips as she leads him to her entrance.

He doesn't wait to ease into her. You already know how slippery wet she is with arousal, and he thrusts right to the hilt in one abrupt, powerful plunge. She cries out as a result, before quieting to a steady stream of sighs and moans when he immediately picks up rhythm. You watch her legs wrapped high on his back, her nails digging deep into his shoulder blade, and her other hand gripping his arm.

You watch his cock pounding back and forth, and wonder how it must look when he's pounding in and out of _you_. . .

The thought makes you strip completely in a flurry of motion. Once you're fully naked you sit back and reach between your legs, then immediately start pumping your cock in time with Iba- eyes glued to where they're connected, her hole stretched and glistening. You listen to him growling "_Fuck,_" - the sound of skin slapping against skin - and grit your teeth as your hand quickens.

"Don't. . .d-don't do that, Shuuhei. . .unless you plan on getting hard again. . ." Rangiku suddenly pants in your direction.

It's surprise more than anything that has your hand stilling obediently, because. . .was she really planning on fucking _you _after she finished with Iba?

There's a grunt that resembles the words, "_Hot damn,_" and suddenly he's sitting up with his arm around her waist to pull her with him. He falls back, lands smoothly on his elbow, then slides against the hardwood floor until he's resting on his back. She falls into his lap with a loud gasp, and you know he must be forced deep now that all her weight is pressing her down on his cock.

You watch her stiffen, and her hands gripping his defined torso when she bites her lower lip. Her eyes open to look down at him, and she reaches up with one hand to flick hair off her neck. A few strands stick to her sweaty throat, so she tosses her head to throw all her wavy hair away from her face. Then her hand goes back to his abdomen - which is heaving - and she runs both up his chest as she leans in and starts rocking back and forth.

Your brows furrow slightly, as you watch them and think that just the other night you were riding him the same way.

That just the other night, he pulled you into his lap and fell back so he could watch you fuck yourself on his cock. . .

But you also think you were well aware _this _was his ultimate fantasy, even if you can't help _feeling _that somehow it's become. . ._different,_ now that it's actually happening right in front you.

Now that he's having Rangiku the same way he had you. . .

But her breasts _are _bouncing gloriously, you allow yourself to notice. Just like Iba said they would, and it's almost enough to drive you to distraction. But before their jiggling can hypnotize you completely, you find your gaze drawn to Iba's hands sliding up her arms. He holds her biceps as he bucks- hard and dominating so she's no longer in control but literally just along for the ride. She gasps, cries out, and falls forward slightly as he thrusts into her with wild abandon.

When her whole body starts convulsing, you know she's close. You're about to reach in to rub her clit, but Iba catches your hand first and gives it a bone-breaking squeeze. You glance at him quickly, and just in time to see him grit his teeth as he turns his head away.

It's the look he gets when he's about to come from being ridden. You return his grip and bring the back of his hand to your chest, watching him as you rub your other hand down his arm. It shakes in your hold, and you feel like hugging it against your body as his hips give a violent jerk.

He comes with a drawn-out groan, rocking into it and making Rangiku whimper. After a moment she pulls off him slowly (probably sensitive from her own orgasm), and falls sideways onto her hip. Her right leg is still draped over his left, and his hips arch like they miss the warmth, before settling back down.

You'd let his hand fall to your lap somewhere along the way, but keep rubbing his arm soothingly. He sluggishly turns on his side towards you, and you smile softly when his fingers skim your cock. It jumps under his touch, and your legs spread slightly of their own accord as you stay resting on your shins. You think he could be considering leaning in to mouth you, with the way his thumb rubs your sack. . .

And although it'd be easy to get lost in the feel of Iba's teasing hand, you still have the good sense to be aware of Rangiku. You glance up to see her watching his hand, and when her gaze meets yours it's only openly questioning. It's as if she's asking you whether or not she should leave you two alone, and it's up to you to give her some kind of signal.

A scary part of you wants to say you're worn out and can't go on. A scary part of you is too damn stupid to realize you haven't even come yet, so how the hell could you be worn out? But it just wants an excuse, and you just want Iba to follow through. . .

But you also don't want him asking you_ what the hell were you thinking,_ after sending away the woman of all your perverted dreams.

So slowly, you lean over Iba to press your lips to hers. You wonder if she can taste herself on your mouth - especially when hers feels tentative - but when you glance into her eyes you think she might be considering your sincerity instead.

It's like a shock to your heart, when you realize you could embarrass her or make her feel hesitant (_unwanted_) because you're too busy thinking about the man between you. You know she deserves better because she's fucking gorgeous, and the last thing she needs after losing Gin is insensitivity and rejection. She's come to your quarters for comfort, and you feel you'd be betraying her if you let her down now.

You kiss her again, and hook her chin to pull her into it. You test her soft lips with yours, then carefully nip the lower with teasing teeth. Iba moves out from between you, and you lean closer so you can run your hand over her curving waist. You pull her towards you so her breasts are pressed against your chest, and slide your hand south so you can spread the lips of her cunt and rub your middle finger over her clit.

She moans quietly into your mouth, and starts panting anew as she rocks herself against your hand. Her slim arms curl around your shoulders, and her breasts are rubbing against you as she bites your lower lip and worries it between her teeth. It incites a groan and you try for a harder kiss, but she just leans back and playfully flicks her tongue over your mouth.

Then she's slowly turning around, before she starts crawling forward (_sensually_) so she's resting on her elbows. She positions her knees on either side of yours, and the curve in her back has her hips arched high in the air. She's spread wide open and fully exposed, and you think your pupils must be dilating as you stare at her offered cunt.

Maybe it _won't_ be hard to focus, you conclude. . . Some of Iba's come has already dripped down her thigh, and you can't resist leaning down to lick it up. You taste it on your tongue, savor it there, and don't bother swallowing just yet as you tongue her clit. Rub it soaking wet with saliva, until her hips start shifting restlessly and she gives an impatient whimper.

Sitting back up, you watch her flip her hair over her shoulder and glance back at you heatedly. She wets her lower lip, puts three fingers into her mouth, then pulls them free and slides them down her stomach to slip them between the slick folds of her cunt. Your eyes are wide and fixated as she slowly pushes her middle finger inside, pumps it in and out with quiet little moans, then moans louder when she pulls it out completely and her hole spasms-

Like it's _aching _to be filled, and you can't deny it any longer.

You grab her hip to keep her still, while holding your cock to her entrance so you can pack her full in one pounding thrust. She whimpers loud, then hums a wanton groan as she pushes back and grinds onto you to let you know she's more than ready. Your heavy eyelids droop, gaze on her slender, womanly back, and you hold her tight as you set a quick, punishing pace.

_Oh, fuck_- is one of the first things you think, because you can feel Iba's come still warm and slippery inside of her. It envelopes you as much as she does, and your fingers bite her soft skin as you thrust. You're becoming increasingly turned on with Iba's come all around your throbbing cock, and your head starts to fall back as you catch your lower lip between your teeth. You've had to hold off on your release so you know you won't be able to last long, but you don't really care. And you can't think Rangiku would care either, after you already teased her mercilessly with your mouth, and then had Iba fuck her.

Head tipping sideways, you glance around for the aforementioned man. Iba. . . Where'd he go, and why wasn't he involving himself like he had before? You spot him sitting at least five feet away on your right, angled slightly behind you but not so far that he can't see her, too. He's still naked with his right leg stretched out in front of him, while the other is drawn up to his chest and tilted sideways.

There's no way of telling what he's looking at, exactly, but you have to assume it's the two of you fucking when he's stroking his cock.

Neither fast nor slow, but steady and sure. . .

You watch him jerking off, with the muscles in his arm tense and flexing with every harsh tug. You're fervently dark-eyed, and feel an aching heat wash over every inch of you. You_ burn,_ and it's just a few more thrusts before your climax hits- slams into you, and you're left shaking as you keel forward, reaching out for something to brace yourself with. Your fingers connect with silken locks, and you pull just enough that Rangiku cries out.

Cock pulsating, you spill over inside her - adding your come to Iba's - and leave her overflowing. The thought makes you groan, and you rock into her until you've made sure it's all out of your system.

You take a moment to catch your breath, before slowly slipping out of her. You're still holding her hips and the second you've left she starts to slump, so you gently ease her down so she's lying on her side. She pants, flushed and shivering, as she tries to recover. After glancing around you find Iba's shitagi strewn nearby, and drape it over her nakedness to guard her from the cold. She smiles her thanks softly, and you think she might sit up but instead her eyes gradually slip shut.

For a moment you simply stare, as you try to decide whether or not she's actually fallen asleep. Then you feel movement beside you, and turn your head to see Iba at your shoulder.

"Guess that means she's stayin' the night."

You chuckle faintly, but the sound fades when he doesn't join you. As you watch him watch her you realize he doesn't look as over the fucking moon as you thought he would, and he's not even pumping his fist like he's scored. You've both finally made your number one fantasy a reality, and all he is is still and quiet?

Your brow furrows (_mystified_), and just when you're about to ask him if something's wrong, he suddenly shifts into a crouch.

"Can't let her sleep on the floor," he mutters, as he moves towards Rangiku and slips his arms underneath her. He scoops her up slowly, and holds her gently to his chest as he stands up.

"Out here or the bedroom?"

"Uh. . .bedroom," you murmur after a moment.

When he walks away without another word, the room becomes stifling in silence and your chest tightens. This atmosphere isn't what you would have expected after fucking around with Rangiku, considering all the nights you and Iba stayed up drinking _just _to talk about winning her over.

You thought the air would be crackling with proud accomplishment, but instead it feels weirdly. . ._static._

You start to wonder if maybe. . . _No._ Although _you'd_ been hesitant because somewhere along the way you'd started thinking more about _him _than her, you can't believe he'd be feeling the same way. Not after he'd been so carelessly responsive, and gotten her to ride him like he'd always wanted. Afterward he'd looked nothing but content and sated, when he turned to you and caressed your cock with lazy satisfaction.

Recalling his fingers against you has you feeling a little flushed, and your eyes widen slightly when you realize his contentment didn't seem to dissipate until after _you _finished. . .

To distract your mind you stand up quickly and gather everyone's scattered uniforms. You think about separating them into three different piles, before you just throw them into one and fall back on the futon. You lay across it haphazardly, and throw your arm over your eyes as you exhale. You've always had a problem with _thinking too fucking much,_ and feel you've never been able to enjoy yourself for extended periods of time because your brain overworks itself.

Now would probably be one of those times, because for all you knew he wasn't even watching you behind his blacked-out shades. His gaze could have been on Rangiku and Rangiku alone, and you were just giving yourself too much credit and getting worked up over nothing.

_For all you knew,_ he could have become still and quiet because he realized he didn't want a threesome after all.

He could have realized he wanted Matsumoto Rangiku all to himself, and you just spoiled it when you went ahead and fucked her without knowing if he wanted you to.

You snort quietly to yourself, and ignore the bitter taste it leaves on your tongue. A second later you hear footsteps approaching, and then there's an armful of blankets landing on top of you. He's been to your place enough times to know where you keep extra sheets, and you push them off your face so you can see him standing by your dangling legs.

He's still stark-naked, and rubbing his hands together when he grumbles, "I can't even smoke."

Because of Rangiku, you assume. Even though she's sleeping in the other room, you know he's considerate enough to worry that the smell might drift and wake her up.

"I'll go outside with you?" you offer, as you slowly lean onto your elbow so you're sitting up. He just shakes his head with a grimace, before he crawls over you and slips between you and the back of the futon.

"Too cold out."

His warmth curls over you, and you're undeniably _surprised _because you'd thought for sure that he would have left after getting what he wanted. Unless. . .

Silently, you hope this means that what he wants is to stay with _you._

But you say nothing about it as you ease back and pull the blankets over you both. You make sure they cover him because he mentioned the cold, then glance at his still face when you ask, "Did she wake up after being moved?"

He shakes he head. "Tucked 'er in and she didn't even bat an eyelash. She must be worn the fuck out."

You chuckle quietly as you look down at yourself and start taking off your armbands. "All things considered, you can't blame her. Fucked twice and teased orally to the point of coming, before I let you interrupt? I'd be worn out too."

"But you're not 'cause you still got plenty ta say."

Brows furrowing slightly, you turn your head towards him. You're lying on your back and he's on his side, squished against the futon and propped on his elbow so he can cradle his head in his palm. You're about to ask him what he means by _that,_ when suddenly he murmurs,

"I didn't come earlier."

His voice is quiet but gruff, and you wish he'd take his sunglasses off so you could see his eyes.

But you respect him enough not to say anything about it, because if he wanted to take them off he already would have.

"Pretty sure I felt that you _did,_" you assure him slowly, with a funny little smirk and confused eyes. He actually laughs, and the sound makes you smile that much more.

"Moron. When the two of you were fucking an' I was jerking off," he clarifies.

Slowly, you drop your armbands on the floor as you carefully study his expression. "Why not?"

He's silent, and now that he's not laughing his face is stone (without eyes to soften it with their vulnerability).

"I thought I'd save it."

You're motionless, and don't say a word as you try to figure out exactly why he's telling you this. As the seconds tick by in silence, his mouth starts to twitch.

Uncomfortably, like it's fighting a frown.

"You couldn't have saved it for _me,_" you try to laugh, just to lighten him up a little. But you think it might have been the wrong tactic when you feel him tense, and then you're turning the rest of your body with the arch of your neck. Turning into him as you start to reach forward, your arm hidden under the blankets but your course clear in your mind. You let your calloused fingertips brush the line of his cock, and feel like groaning when you realize he wasn't lying.

When you feel him so honestly erect.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start stroking like a promise. One that says you're sorry for teasing him, and you'll make it better by rubbing him to completion. He leans into you with a shaky inhale, and you tilt your head to press your lips together. You kiss him tender with reassurance - an unspoken guarantee to take care of this for him - and he rasps something like a quiet little _whine _that's stuck in his throat. In turn you murmur something unintelligible (a sound of encouragement), and tug on him gently until he falls against you.

One of his strong legs slips between yours, and he ends up straddling your thigh. You bend your leg slightly to add pressure - telling him silently that he can go ahead and rub against you if he wants - and hold his cock tightly as you pump him. He starts rocking into the tunnel of your fist, his sack rubbing over your thigh, and you hear him groan raggedly in your ear.

"Wait-" he pants abruptly, and you just kiss him silent because you don't want to. He has to be pent up from holding off earlier, and you don't want him waiting any longer. You want to bring him off, and let him know he can trust you to do this for him whenever he needs it.

He gasps, like a hoarse breath caught in a sore throat, and his whole body gives a violent jerk. You sling your arm around his back to hold him steady, as he rides your hand and grabs onto your hair. His grip is so white-knuckled it starts to hurt, but you only hold him tighter and feel even more turned on when he growls into the futon.

His come spills over your fingers, hot and heavy, and you kiss his chiseled cheekbone as you close your eyes and stroke him through it. Milk his cock till he's empty, and his hips gradually slow to a halting, wobbling twitch. He settles against you, tired and panting, and you rub his back soothingly as you continue holding his cock. You don't rub him when he's so sensitive, but you're reluctant to let him go and wish you could keep stroking just to feel him hard and throbbing.

Wish you weren't stuck in your current position, so you could wiggle your way down and kiss the head open-mouthed. Lick him clean, and start sucking him down because you've wanted to all night.

A loud thunk against the floor brings you out of your fantasy, and your brows furrow as you turn your head.

Eyes widen when you see what it was. A tub of _lube _has fallen, presumably from the futon, and rolls across the floor before it tips onto its side and lies forgotten and unused.

Where. . .did _Iba _bring that from your bedroom? Did he drop it with your sheets and you didn't even notice?

"You really were. . ." _saving it for me._

Flushed and aroused, you turn your head back to the man lying against you. His breathing has slowed, and his body's gone completely limp. He's fallen asleep with his arm hanging across your chest, and his hand dangling lifelessly over the futon.

Shit. Looks like you _should _have listened and waited, because apparently he was planning on fucking you. But you just exhale quietly, and slowly move his arm so it's more comfortable. He ends up bending his elbow and tucking his forearm against your side, his fingers tickling just below your armpit. You steel yourself to keep from laughing, then pull the blankets tighter around you both.

His warm breath skims your neck, and suddenly you're aware that his come will dry and stick between your stomachs. You grimace slightly, but can't bring yourself to move him. So you just smooth your hand over his back, and turn your head to run your nose along his forehead. Kiss him there gently, before slowly taking his sunglasses off and setting them aside so they won't be crushed.

When he squeezes you in his sleep, you find it increasingly hard not to rouse him.

But you just hold him tightly and leave him to rest, even though your heart's close to bursting.

* * *

Title- is another astrological reference, because Rangiku's a Libra!


	3. Breathing Underwater

The morning's warm under piles of cotton, but lonely without another body beside you.

Iba Tetsuzaemon is no longer with you under the sheets when you wake up, and you startle fully conscious- blinking sleep from your eyes so you can glance around the room without blurred vision.

It's quiet and still, save for floating dust illuminated by golden sunlight through the window. Your uniform is the only one lying on the floor, and that's what drives you to your feet so you're headed quickly towards the bedroom.

Rangiku isn't there. And you may have thought it was all a dream given the neatness of your futon (like no one had slept there to begin with), if when you sat on the mattress you didn't smell your sheets perfumed with her lingering sweetness.

It makes you smile, to think she took the time to make your bed.

Especially when you imagine her small pretty hands adjusting the sheets around your futon. . .

But then you just feel ungentlemanly, when you realize you weren't awake to see her leave. To ask her if she'd enjoyed herself, and whether or not she wanted you to make her something to eat before she went back to her division.

You're frowning your disappointment when muffled sound down the hall snares your attention. You get up to stand in the doorway to your room, look to your left, and see the bathroom door has been shut. That beyond it, you can hear running water.

Your eyes widen when you consider that maybe Rangiku didn't leave after all. And maybe _Iba _didn't leave either, and slowly your mind puts together that _both _of them could be in the bathroom (instead of just one).

Your choker bobs with your Adam's apple when you swallow, and you turn your body with your gaze so you can inch your way to the bathroom door. Your ears are pricked to pick up sound - a giggle, a moan, murmured words - but you still hear nothing but pattering water.

And _sense _nothing but. . .Iba's reiatsu.

Brows furrowing slightly, you hover outside the door (concentrate on keeping your own reiatsu in check), and wonder whether or not you should invite yourself in. Because it _is _your bathroom, after all, and if you want to interrupt his shower for one of your own then you're perfectly entitled to do so. . .

But then again you aren't entitled to rudeness, and you also think that if Iba _wanted _you to join him, he would have woken you up instead of sneaking off to take a shower by himself.

The realization makes you frown, but you just turn away and head for the kitchen to get something to drink. You feel your mouth's as dry as Hueco Mundo, and you swish water with your tongue to wash the inside of your mouth with moisture. After you've gargled you spit into the sink, repeat the process a second time, then officially swallow the third to quench your thirst.

Now that you know Iba is still here and didn't leave like Rangiku. . .you can't help wondering how long he's been awake, if he'd been awake before Rangiku left, and if he _had,_ whether or not they got up to something.

_Without you._

You frown again and stare at the glass of water in your hand. You're leaning against the sink, and you down what's left while thinking that you should have filled it with sake instead.

But it'd only be natural, wouldn't it? You couldn't blame Iba for taking advantage of the situation. It wasn't every day you had the gorgeous _Matsumoto Rangiku_ within arm's reach, and _willing._ If _you'd _woken up first, you would've-

Woken Iba up next, then figured the rest out later.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you glance over your shoulder and wonder when he'll be out.

Wonder if you should go back to bed and pretend to be asleep, so he can have a clean getaway.

Wonder _why the hell_ he didn't wake you up just so he could brag about finally making it with Matsumoto Rangiku.

You turn back to the sink and fill your glass with more water. When you realize your leg's fidgeting you force it still, then remember that the night before he hadn't bragged about it either. Had been so silent about the events that had just unfolded, that you'd been completely taken aback and at a loss.

Instead of bragging he'd turned to fucking around with _you,_ and- that's when you remember.

You look down at yourself, and you're surprised that there aren't any traces of Iba's come. _Distinctly _you remember thinking unfavorably that you'd wake up sticky, but having gone to sleep anyway. . .

Did. . .Iba clean you off when he woke up?

There's a small smile curling your mouth despite everything, because his consideration never fails to warm you.

You glance back once more to make sure you're still alone, then take a drink and swish. You wish you could get into your bathroom to brush your teeth, but seeing as you can't. . . You start looking through the drawers around your kitchen._ Mints. _Abarai brought you things called _mints _after his last visit to the Living World. . .

_Ya know. . ._

The sound of that unexpected voice has you freezing, and you feel your gaze unfocused- turned inward to whipping winds and a thing at home in that torrential tornado. You see him grin, one blue eye larger than the other, and his fingers running up the thin shaft of a scythe.

_If ya asked me, I'd say I don't know why he wouldn't want you more than her. She may got a pussy, but you __**are **__one._

He howls with cackling laughter, and if the sound of his voice had been surprising on its own, then the words themselves were doubly so. For a moment you remain frozen, and then you actually _laugh._ Snort, smile at the corner of your mouth, and shake your head as you pick a mint from the small tin that you've found.

There is just one trait - _one single trait _- of Kazeshini's you've wished you could have shared. And that was his inability to take things too seriously.

Absently, you consider letting him know that being one big pussy wouldn't do a man any good at all, so he's really _not _so clever-

"What's funny?"

You turn your head instantly - quick but habitually calm, because you've practiced your reaction when someone catches you in the middle of a conversation with Kazeshini - and your eyes zero in on Iba Tetsuzaemon standing just outside the kitchen's entryway (somewhere between it and the living area). There's a towel hung precariously low on his waist, and his skin has been dried but remains flushed and softened.

Left warmed and moisturised.

And of course he's wearing his sunglasses, as he looks at you and uses a smaller towel to dry his hair.

"Where's Rangiku-san?" you answer his question with one of your own. He just slings the towel around his neck, holds onto both ends, and frowns slightly.

"She was gone when I woke up."

"Oh."

For some reason you can't think of anything more to say. Not when you feel nothing but relieved (knowing now that she and Iba _hadn't_ done something while you were sleeping), but know you probably shouldn't express that openly.

You have a routine to uphold, after all. . . And that's when you wonder when things stopped being simple - like you'd needed them to be - but know instantly that it was just last night.

That it'd stopped being simple the moment your harmless fantasies became a threatening reality. Because you really wouldn't have minded continuing the way you were, and having things centered around talk of Matsumoto Rangiku just until Iba fucked you instead.

But things could no longer be safe in that realm of fantasize and realize otherwise.

Not now, after you'd both had Rangiku; and there was a chance Iba would no longer need _you _to relieve his unfulfilled dreams. .

You notice Iba's mouth is down-turned, and you think that he must be wondering if Rangiku was upset, and that's why she left before either of you woke up.

"She probably wanted to go home to shower and change into a clean uniform, before having to answer to Hitsugaya-taichou for the day," you try reassuring him, because you don't like seeing him pensive. He just nods slowly, then suddenly shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards you.

"I would've woken you up," he says, "for a shower" - added quickly - "but you looked really comfortable."

Again, you find you can't think of anything to say. You feel you're staring stupidly at the other man - and unsure when you can't see his eyes to read his expression (but also relieved for the same reason) - as you try deciding whether he means he would have woken you to take a shower _before _him, or take one _with _him.

You've never taken a shower together, and . .you think you would've liked it if you did.

"You should have," you tell him after a moment, then think to clarify: "For a shower."

Your voice has lowered slightly- suggestive but safe in the implication. You don't want to risk saying explicitly, "A shower _with you,_" but you hope he'll hear in your tone that that's precisely what you mean.

He doesn't respond, though, and simply stares at you (_presumably_).

But he does move towards you when he points at the tin in your hand.

"What's that?"

You glance down calmly, but are acutely aware of his body heat getting closer. "Mints. Abarai brought them from the Living World."

On a whim you wet the pad of your forefinger with your tongue, so it'll stick when you touch one of the mints. You hold it up for him to see, and turn your eyes to him with a small, lopsided smile. You're about to ask him if he'd like one, when he just leans down to scoop it up with his tongue. For a moment his lips close around the tip of your finger, and suck lightly to secure the mint in his mouth before he pulls away.

Your heart thumps, hard and solid against your chest like it just fell over. Then it starts thrumming - _loudly _- and over the throb of it pounding in you ear, you barely manage to hear the sound of hard candy being crushed between Iba's teeth.

You tell him tonelessly (your mind long gone): "You're supposed to suck."

He laughs, low and husky, and slowly leans towards you. He slides his arms past you to grip the counter behind you, and you're officially trapped when he murmurs, "Hey. Can I fuck you sore for work?"

"Sore for work?" you repeat, and it sounds strange to your own ears because the sudden change in atmosphere has you feeling stupefied. Your own mint has dissolved nearly halfway, so you gnaw on it anxiously to break it up.

Swallow it down heavily when Iba leans even closer so he's speaking near your ear:

"I want you too sore to sit at your desk comfortably."

Your eyes actually_ flutter,_ and you fight a full-body shudder; struggle to appear as cool and composed as Iba Tetsuzaemon. He's never spoken to you this way, and it's rendered you too dazed to do anything but nod.

Nodding like you'd say - if you weren't voiceless - _**Yeah.**__ Fuck me too fuckin' sore to sit down . . _

_(And how'd you read my mind?)_

He needs no more prompting and a second later his mouth's on your neck. Kissing under your jaw, ardent and strident until your head's forced to fall back. Baring your throat defenselessly, to his suckling mouth and bruising teeth. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head - supporting you as he feasts on your neck - and his other yanks impatiently at the towel around his hips so it can be thrown away.

The second it's gone his strong hands are sliding around you; gripping your ass, and hefting you up around his waist. You groan against his mouth, and grapple for the counter behind you. Grasp purchase there, then wrap your other arm around his broad shoulders as you rock your hips. His hold on you tightens so you only need him for support, and your hand gripping the counter moves to run over his damp hair.

He's burning up against you, and you're wrapped all around him with arms and legs squeezing tight. He squeezes back just as tightly, and makes you hum when he bucks you particularly rough.

Makes you moan something like a growled purr, when you suck on his full upper lip and rub against him like a cat horny for affection.

You want him badly, and hope he wants you just as badly when he carries you to your bedroom. Falls on top of you over the futon, and kisses you breathless and panting before he starts moving down. You're nothing but uncontrollable shivers and barely open eyes, as you watch him past your lashes and try catching your breath. Your chest is heaving with effort, and your legs tremble when he settles between them.

Your eyes widen, and unconsciously you try closing your legs because _this _is new territory.

Because he's never gone down on you before, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. . .

But he just keeps your legs open with soothing hands, and has you choking on a gasp when he kisses your cock open-mouthed. Sucks hard on the space where it meets your balls, then drags his tongue up the shaft so he can wrap his lips around the head.

It feels like he's experimenting, when he sucks the head sopping wet with saliva before moving down. Taking more of your throbbing cock into his curious mouth, and bobbing up and down - once, twice, thrice - but never all the way.

Curious and cautious, and you just pant breathlessly as you ball your hands into fists. You struggle not to buck your hips or grab his head so he'll take you deeper, but you don't want him gagging so you keep still. . . Simply groaning raggedly when he _does _take more of you in, and then you lose yourself long enough to cup the back of his neck and stroke up; rubbing him forward and about to reach down with your other hand so both can hold him steady.

But he suddenly pulls off with a gasping sound, and your hands jerk away as your eyes fly open. "Sorry," you pant automatically, and think about sitting up to soothe him with kiss. But instead he leans down first to soothe _you,_ and you feel yourself melting into his mouth. Willing and yielding, you let him lead the kiss until he breaks away to tuck his face against your neck.

Seems to like it there, when he kisses and kisses like he can't get enough of tasting your throat. You tilt your head to give him all the access he wants, and moan shakily with fingers digging into his back.

When his hand finds your hip and starts pushing, you roll onto your stomach compliantly. Stretching out, you glance at him over your shoulder as you spread your legs around him so he's kneeling between them. You watch him even though you can't tell where he's looking, and let your hips sway when you lift them and adjust yourself so you can lie comfortably on your erect cock.

His hands find your thighs and run up, pushing just below your ass so there's more bend in your waist. Your eyes hood darkly, and you make a small sound of encouragement as you arch your hips to give him a better view. He suddenly slaps your ass without warning, and you jump with a startled laugh. He smirks at you faintly, and then he's spreading your cheeks before leaning down.

The first touch of his tongue against your entrance has you gasping. And when he covers you in broad sweeps - the flat of his tongue wet and lapping over your hole - it has you groaning and shaking. His biceps are draped over your thighs when he feels up your back, and you reach down to hold your cheeks apart as your ass rolls to his mouth.

You gasp his name, and that's when he moves back up. Slides his legs over yours so he's straddling you, then leans down to your ear to mumble, "Should be saying 'Tetsuzaemon' by now."

It's said because you'd called him Iba, and you feel any response would be inadequate or overlooked, now that you can hear him slicking himself up. So you just remain silent, and prop yourself up on your elbows to brace yourself. You wonder if he'd thought to bring the lube back to your room when he woke up, and your eyes close when you feel the head of his cock pushing against you.

You hang your head, and he kisses the back of your neck. The knobs of spine between your shoulder blades, then the shell of your ear when he grips your hair to pull your head back. You turn towards him so your eyebrow's against his jaw, and nearly whimper when he slips into you.

He slides to the hilt, and you both moan and exhale in a rush. The hand gripping your hair slides down to cup the front of your neck, and he gives it a squeeze while kissing your cheek.

The side that's scarred, and your brows screw up with overwhelming feeling. He pulls a pillow beneath you and urges you down; waits for you to hug it before he anchors his hands to your shoulders and starts thrusting. Shallow at first, but growing quickly in intensity so the sound of skin slapping skin is near instant. In this position it's hard for you to participate, so you just lie taut and accommodating as he rides you.

Really _drives _his cock into you, and pounds up and down a few times before grinding deep.

You gasp just as deep (in your throat), then louder when he bucks so you're jostled. This is what you'd wanted the night before, but didn't get the chance to have. You'd wanted this feeling of Iba Tetsuzaemon fucking you like he needs it, and that's exactly how it feels when he's gripping your sides for balance; groaning above you, and rocking so eagerly against your ass.

When you turn your head to see him over your shoulder, he bends down to press your lips together. You pant breathily into the kiss, and fist rumpled fabric in a white-knuckled grip as you buck- trying to move with him but finding it hard when his weight is bearing down on you.

He must pick up on your struggle, because a moment later he's pulling out of you and easing his way _between _your legs instead of over them. He runs his calloused hands over the prickling skin of your thighs, and brings your legs back to life after being constricted. You shudder, shift slightly onto your knees, then arch your hips invitingly to let him know you're ready.

He reenters you in a flash of movement and feeling, and starts thrusting with real urgency. Now that you're free to move you take full advantage: bucking back, powerful and shameless. Encouraging him to go harder, faster, deeper.

Fuck you sore just like he said.

Remembering his words makes you moan, and when you feel warm fingers encircling your throbbing cock your mouth falls open. He starts pumping you harshly, and you feel his breath hot against your ear when he pants, "Gettin' close."

"Go ahead," you breath, as you grind your hips to carry him through. He all but falls into you, and growls with your shoulder between his teeth. His hips give a violent jerk and you're aching all over- breathless with panting when he climaxes inside you.

You bite your lip on a satisfied groan, as you rock against him to make sure he's emptied himself completely. You can't help squeezing his cock tightly with your own orgasm fast approaching, and you bury your face in the pillow with a shuddering breath as you spill over his stroking fingers.

You feel you're not fully conscious when he slips out of you, then slowly turns you over so you're lying on your back. You feel him pressing against your side - his right leg slipping comfortably between yours - and his arm sliding under your head. Then his mouth is on yours, and he's kissing you slow and tender. Moving lips against lips, unhurried but so full of feeling that your whole body trembles.

He moves to your neck again, but now he takes his time brushing leisurely lips over your skin. Pauses shortly to push your choker up, then kisses flesh normally hidden from touch.

You should have caught your breath by now, and you probably would have if he wasn't keeping you in a constant state of arousal with his faithful touch.

Keeping your chest from ceasing its heaving, and your body from quitting its quivering.

"One more time," you murmur while the feeling's still fresh. He slowly pulls away from your throat, and sits up so he's looking down at you. Of course it's hard to read his expression (_as usual_), so you try a crooked smile that wants to be cocky (and probably falls short).

"Too sore to sit down comfortably, remember?"

He finally smiles (softly) and leans over you the rest of the way. Your heart pounds faster when he slides back between your legs, and you wet your lower lip as you run your hands up his sides. Bring your legs up around his waist, and moan slightly when he reaches down to position his cock. You feel the head teasing against your hole, and slide your hands to the small of his back.

Let them drift downwards so you can grip his ass and pull him towards you.

The gesture has him slamming into you, and he starts up so quickly that it forces a strangled grunt from your throat. His hips work like a well-oiled piston, and you've nothing to do but hold on with hands sliding restless on his strong back.

It's then that he cups your face, and kisses you so deeply that you're left panting against his mouth. . .

But his skilled hips turn you to whining between clenched teeth- gasping loudly for air, then pushing his sunglasses up his nose when they start sliding down. For a brief moment he seems taken aback, and then he just kisses you harder and drives you into the futon with pounding thrusts.

* * *

It didn't end up being just once more, but _twice _more (and nearly a third on your way out the door). Iba Tetsuzaemon fucked you to growling climax, and then after you recovered he compelled you to ride him.

Only this time he'd sat leaning against the wall, so he could kiss you between watching you rock in his lap. . .

Recalling it makes you inconveniently _warm _when you're at the workplace.

Especially when you remember the feel of his hands all over you: from your legs, chest, hair, face. . .

You'd shift in your seat, if he hadn't held true to his promise and actually_ fucked you sore._ Your muscles are aching all over - your backside in particular - but you feel it's the kind of ache that means you simply miss him being inside you. . .

The thought makes you slowly gnaw your bottom lip, as you stare at the article you're supposed to be editing. And you're just about to scribble something down (or put the pen in your mouth so you can gnaw on that instead), when a teasing voice penetrates your ear.

"It's not like you to look so distracted, Shuuhei. . ."

You jump - barely resist a wince - then turn your head to look beside you. Matsumoto Rangiku is leaning down to your eye-level, so her breasts are hanging down as well when she smiles at you.

Something about it is just shy of unsettling, or maybe it's all in ice-blue eyes that seem to see right through you.

Abruptly she straightens up, and falls gracefully over your desk so she's reclining on her side. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you begin protesting with a faint, "_Rangiku-san_" (even though it's a pretty damned good view).

"Don't play shy after what we did last night," she pouts petulantly, with knees bent and hips rounded; propped up on her left elbow as she stares at you. Again her penetrating eyes are troubling, and so is her silken voice when she smiles softly and asks, "Why didn't you tell me before I let you fuck me?"

You flush hotly, and quickly glance around the editorial office to make sure the two of you are still the only ones in the room. You might've said _Rangiku-san_ once more, if you didn't think she'd sigh impatiently and tell you to stop sounding like a broken record.

So instead you just quietly mutter, "Tell you what?"

The corner of her mouth curls, and her lashes lower when she leans forward on your desk.

"That you were already_ in love_."

A disbelieving "_What?_" is out of your mouth before you have the chance to stop it. And she just leans her right elbow on your desk, so she can rest her pretty chin in her small hand, as she uses the other to brush fingertips over a stack of papers.

"I guess it could have slipped your attention, seeing as you fucked me. . . But then again you're both men, and not prone to monogamy anyway. . ."

Your brow starts to furrow, and Rangiku just smiles at you coquettishly; eyes wicked behind lashes like two rows of well-aimed daggers.

"Just let him fuck you in front of a mirror next time, and you'll see that when he's behind you you look like you've died and gone back to Earth."

"_Rangiku-san._"

"_Shuuhei,_ how can you act scandalized after the things you've done? The things you did last night _alone._ You really are talented with your mouth, by the way. Have you given him a blowjob yet? Because if you haven't already sealed the deal, that certainly will. I've heard no woman can give a blowjob like a man."

You're shocked speechless, and she's downright _glowing _with amusement.

"You really are cute, when you're flustered."

Her words flirt like a wink, but there's a moment's silence in which time her eyes soften and her smile becomes more sympathetic than flirtatious. Your own eyes turn away quickly to avoid her gaze, but you still feel so dangerously exposed that you wish the floor would swallow you whole.

"I was only teasing you, Shuuhei," she murmurs, in a tone that's gentle (meant to be comforting, you think). And you glance at her out of the corner of your eye, just to see her wink for real.

"I won't tell anyone, either."

Her expression is calmly playful, but her voice is no longer teasing. It's become genuine with promise, and you don't realize you'd been holding your breath until you've exhaled heavily.

"Thanks," you mumble after a moment, because you're sincerely grateful but also still on edge from being found out. You watch her watching you, and then your brows furrow slightly as you flush with embarrassment for new reasons.

"Listen, Rangiku-san. . . I didn't mean-"

"I'm not angry," she interrupts you gently, and offers another small smile as she sits up. Then she slips off the desk to sit gracefully across your lap, and curls slim arms around your neck. "Why should I be upset when you two fucked me better than I've been fucked in a long time? I'm more than satisfied."

Her voice has dipped low - _intimate _- and your flush feels to have deepened to a burning red. She leans forward to kiss you softly (like she's saying goodbye and "Thanks for a nice time"), then quietly murmurs, "Now let me see you walk."

She was right. You are _completely scandalized _by her behavior, and Kazeshini is hooting and hollering somewhere in the background (probably fondling himself, too, if you cared to look).

". . .had I known you were such a perv for guy-on-guy action, I would've told him to kiss me sooner."

She leans back with a bouncing laugh. "You know, Shuuhei, it's absolutely _unbelievable_ that you have such an incredibly _lewd _tattoo on your face, but try acting above it all regardless. _Especially _after using such a dirty tactic as banking on a woman's inability to resist two kissing men~ Now _stop playing_ _coy,_ and _showoff _like you did the day I wanted pictures of you and Kira."

_That _sparks something inside you, and you feel mounting mischievousness as you smirk at her. Everything about her expression seems to widen - her eyes, her mouth - and you lift her up with less ease than usual (that damned ache in your back) to set her back on your desk.

Then you try (and fail) to swagger across the room. Predictably your confident strut isn't what it would have been under normal circumstances, and you hear her snort behind you.

"Okay, I've never meant 'it was a pain in the ass getting to work' _so. literally,_" you joke, as you glance over your shoulder with a self-satisified grin.

She laughs wildly.

* * *

Later after you've finished your work - and are certain that most everyone else probably has, too - you head over to the Seventh Division. The sun is setting and the air has cooled, and you feel both ignited and nervous.

Anxious and aflame.

You stand outside his quarters - inhale deeply a few times, roll your shoulders, whip your head - then steel yourself completely and drum your knuckles against the shouji.

"It's open!" you hear him shout from inside, and you slowly slide away the screen door to enter his rooms. After sliding it shut behind you (and leaving your warji in the genkan), you quietly make your way into the living area.

Iba's resting on his futon under a pile of blankets, and you think he'd look like someone kicking back and watching TV in the Living World, if it wasn't for the _Seireitei Communication_ he's holding in his hand. You smile faintly, and lean against the nearest wall with arms casually crossed.

Watching him bend the pages aside so he can see you.

"Hey," he starts, and you mumble a resounding "Hey" of your own. His brow arches slightly, and you glance away for a moment before looking back when you inquire, "How is it? My editorial skills up to par?"

" 's good enough. Why're you standing all the way over there?"

Your insides flutter, but you remain calm as you slowly walk your way closer. You glance around him - note the complete lack of beverages of any kind - and pause to ask, "Do you want some sake?"

There's a moment's silence, before Iba slowly shakes his head with a scrunched expression. "Naw. . . Think I'm good. Unless you want some?"

You can barely contain a pleased smile (because for the second time in two nights, you aren't using sake to excuse whatever might unfold), so you hide it by pretending to chew your lower lip. You shake your head simply, and watch him drop the paper on the floor before peeling the blankets back.

"Get in here. You're walkin' like a moron."

You just laugh quietly as you bend down to climb in beside him (nerves crackling with excitement). "Who made me walk like a moron?" you wonder, and he throws the sheets over you both before curling an arm around your waist to pull you in.

"Guess that means. . .I gotta let you rest."

He sounds lazily disappointed- like he wants to maintain a casual air, but feels far from it. His hand betrays him too, when it finds the small of your back and rubs soothingly.

Rubs like he wants you feeling better after your rough morning with him, and the kind gesture floods you with warmth.

Instinctively you lean into him- feeling all at once secured by his touch, and terrifyingly exposed.

So you start thinking of a way to ask him what's happening between the two of you. If it's still just casual fucking, or becoming something more. What he's meant these past two days, exactly, without sake or talk of Rangiku to spur him?

If he's started fucking you for _you,_ and not just because you happen to be there when he's horny.

But it's distracting when he's slowly tugging your uniform up - pulling the fabric free of your hakama - and slipping his hand inside to touch your bare skin. You exhale quietly through your nose, and feel every inch of your skin prickling even though he's only caressing a small portion of it.

Only rubbing the small of your back, though you feel it from head to toe.

"You okay?" he wonders after a moment. "Not so sore that you're hurt, are you?"

It feels like he's asking about more than your aching body. That he's questioning the same things you're questioning, and is slowly testing the water; skimming just the surface.

You glance over his shaded face, then smirk slightly as you relax beside him.

"No. The ache feels good."

His hand has stilled on your back, but your words must have reassured him regardless; because he's leaning even closer, and you tilt your head to accept his questing mouth. Your kiss is slow, and your moan quiet when his tongue strokes yours. You suck on it lightly, and start thinking about what Rangiku said earlier about blowjobs.

Start thinking back to the night before, and how badly you'd wanted to suck him down. . .

But before you can make a move south he's pushing you onto your stomach, and your brows screw together when he moves behind you. You wonder if he's actually going to try fucking you because you'd said the ache was good, and your eyes widen with surprise and apprehension.

Then they're just blown even wider, because Iba pushes your uniform up your back and bends down to kiss the spot where he'd been rubbing with his hand. Kisses it again, and again, and _again-_- until you have to bow your head and screw your eyes shut. You feel like shaking and he leans back up to lay beside you, then pulls you into him. Ghosts his lips over your forehead, your eyebrow, then your scarred cheek. Tickles your skin with his mustache, before meeting your mouth a second time.

After he's kissed you dotingly, you feel like you need to swallow your heart back down. It's pounding loudly in your ears, but you just stare at him when you mumble, "Do you sleep with those on?"

" 'course not."

He says it so easily, but his energy seems to thrum the opposite (thrums with sudden _un_ease). So you kiss him to calm him (try to be as soothing as he always is), and reach up to touch his sunglasses. You start pulling them off slowly, then quickly turn around to set them on the floor; not looking so he has time to prepare himself.

Time to adjust.

But when you turn back his left eye is scrunched shut, and the other barely open. He looks so honestly _sensitive to light,_ that you can't help snorting as you reach out to cup his face and rub his eyebrow with your thumb. His expression turns cranky when you laugh, but he doesn't say anything and doesn't stop you from touching him.

Slowly, both eyes come open. They're looking somewhere near your chin, but still you can tell they're dark.

Deep with darkness and rich with warmth, and you feel. . ._melted._

So you lean in to kiss over his eyelid, because what's been hidden is tender to light and tender with feeling. Not just too cool to be seen, although you're sure there's that, too, because Iba Tetsuzaemon will always be that refined yakuza.

But not so refined, cool or tough that he can't hug you close, and tuck his face against your neck.

Kissing you there because he seems to favor it (can't get enough of tasting your throat), and you squeeze him tightly because things suddenly feel _simple _again.

Reduced once more to just the two of you, and now you're content knowing - with certainty - that you can count on him to want you.

Even without talk of Matsumoto Rangiku (or the cloudy influence of alcohol) to incite him.

FIN


End file.
